


Child of Mine

by thecivilunrest



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Babies, Childbirth, F/M, Pregnancy, a very cute baby!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecivilunrest/pseuds/thecivilunrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the latest stages of her pregnancy, Anne had taken to napping in the early afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child of Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChelleLeigh1917](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleLeigh1917/gifts).



> For Day 2 of the 12 Days of Ficmas challenge that I'm doing. This was so much fun to write. (:

During the latest stages of her pregnancy, Anne had taken to napping in the early afternoon. 

She hates feeling useless and being idle, but if she does not nap then her ankles will swell and she will sway on her feet. The first few times this had happened Richard had been worried before he realized what was ailing her he commanded her into taking a nap in the afternoons. 

_But it is not all bad_ , she thinks, running her fingers through her husband’s hair. Richard sometimes came and joined her when she rested. During the beginning of their marriage he was gone so often, busy being the lord in the north and taking care of everything that had been neglected. The closer to the birthing day that Anne gets, however, the more often that he stays home, with Anne. 

“You should not be here,” Anne chastises him gently, knowing that it is the truth even though she will feel bereft if he leaves her now. There are few things better than drowsing in bed with Richard as the snow floats lazily to the ground outside. 

“Soon you will be entering your confinement, and then I will not see you at all,” Richard reminds her. “I want to get as much of you now, while I still can.” 

Anne’s heart flutters at his words, for more than one reason. Her first pregnancy had not lasted long enough to even begin to think of confinement, ending with a sharp pain and blood pooling between her legs as the babe ripped its way out of her womb. And the reminder that Richard loves her and will love this child does not help either. 

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can the baby kicks and Anne gasps. She never will get used to the sensation, no matter how many times that it happens. Their child is alive inside of her, and to Anne that means the world. 

Richard props himself up on his elbows, looking worried. He is forever worried about Anne--about the babe--and she cannot find much fault with that, even though at times he is overbearing. “What is it?” he asks, a wrinkle between his brow. 

“Nothing too alarming,” Anne tells him, smiling softly. “The babe is just kicking.” 

“They are?” Richard asks, his eyes lighting with excitement. 

Anne laughs as she grabs Richards hand and places it where the babe is still kicking her. It’s only light kicks, though, nothing so bad that she won’t be able to sleep through them. She is finally tired enough to drift off and is grateful that the child seems to realize this as well. 

“I cannot wait for you to get here,” Richard whispers to her stomach and Anne laughs. 

“They will know your voice coming straight out of the womb, you talk to them so much,” she teases. 

“Good. I am their father after all,” Richard says, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. 

“That you are,” Anne agrees sleepily before she puts her head on his shoulder. 

.

Anne has seen childbirth before, has heard screams of agony and anguish. She remembers vividly having to pull the babe out of Isabel herself, the way that veins had ripped and Isabel had begged for death. She remembers it all, and yet she fears for the babe more than herself. 

The birth is long and ardorous, and it will all be for naught if the babe is born dead. 

That is her worst fear, and from the way that her midwives tut around, whispering words that she can’t hear, it must be a true one. 

She wants to demand to hear what the midwives are saying; she would like to know how the babe is doing, but she cannot make herself speak. She had loved this babe so much before they were born and yet this might be another one of her failures, another dead body to bury before they can even be baptised and therefore barred to heaven forever. 

Anne cannot bear it and so when the midwives urges her to push, even though it is the last thing that she wants to do, she pushes, trying to get the babe out of her alive. She is dying, ripping apart and she can’t help but scream. 

And then finally, _finally_ , the babe cries. 

“It’s a boy, Your Grace,” the head midwife tells her, and Anne can’t help but smile. She is sweaty and exhausted and wants nothing more than to sleep for a hundred years, and yet she watches as the midwives anoint her son with honey and oil and feed him. Richard now has an heir, the one that they both wanted more than anything, and she has done her duty. 

Only once her son is fed and she is clean is Richard allowed into the bedchamber. Anne can only imagine what is frame of mind must be, and she hopes that he did not hear her screams. There is a small wrinkle between his brow when he walks in, but once he sees her with his son in his arms he stops cold. 

“A boy, my lord. Your son.” Anne cannot keep herself from smiling, she is so happy. Richard blinks, his mouth trembling at the corner once before he comes to sit at the edge of her bed. “Would you like to hold him?” 

“Yes,” Richard whispers, voice reverent as though he were reciting a prayer. Anne reluctantly gives up her son and helps him adjust his arms so the babe’s head is supported. “I was so worried...I could hear you outside the chambers and yet they would not let me in...” 

“That does not matter,” Anne says, though the place between her legs is still sore, “what matters is the end result. Which is our son.” 

“Have you thought of a name?” 

She pauses. “No, I have not.” Truly she would like to name the child Richard, after her father, but she does not know if Richard would want that for a first son. “You can name the sons and I will name the daughters.” 

“A fair compromise,” Richard smiles. “I was thinking Edward, then. For my brother.” 

“Yes, I like that.” Anne smiles back at him. There will be plenty of other sons to name for her father, she tells herself. There will be plenty more babies to come.


End file.
